Like a duck to water
So, we arrived in Geilo (pr: Yai-lo in case you forgot) on Sunday and headed off to our lovely apartment at the Ustedalen Hotell & Resort. It is just a short walk from the train station. Unless you are carrying 54kg of kit between you, in which case it is a long walk. A taxi would have been a good idea, but…
Worth the walk I think.
The following morning, after much faffing, we hiked down to the lake (Ustedalfjorden) and Mrs P donned her rented skis for the first time.
“Which way up do these things go?”
Just a few minutes later and we’re off. It only took about 1/2 an hour before I had taught her everything I know, which can be summarised as:
Glide
Use your poles
Try to stay upright
Mrs P is a natural and is soon skiing along like a pro. Well, maybe not exactly like a pro, but pretty darned good for a beginner. Trond would be proud of her and would almost certainly point out how much better she is than I was this time last year. In fact, he did. I got a WhatsApp from him saying her pole technique is good. I read that as “…much better than yours was.” The sad thing is, he’s not wrong!
Mrs P wondering where the bl**dy chair lifts are
We spent the first couple of days pottering around the lake by Geilo while Mrs P got her technique together.
Mrs P perfects standing up
Today, our third day, we ventured a little higher. Taking a bus towards a place called Ustaoset (pronounced… erm… I give in.) Say it as it looks and most people seem to know where you are talking about, but twice I have had the following conversation.
Me: “We are going to Ustaoset…”
Them: “Where?”
Me: “Ustaoset.”
Them: “Never heard of it.”
Me: “Next train station in the direction of Finse and Bergen.”
Them: “Oh, you mean Ustaoset.”
Me: “That’s what i said.”
Them: “No, you said Ustay-o-set. It’s called Ustaoset.”
Hey ho! Maybe it’s my Brummie accent.
Anyway, we got off the bus at Rennedalen. Because I can pronounce Rennedalen. Also because it was a beautiful place to begin to introduce Mrs P to the art of skiing uphill.
Rennedalen. The rough part of town.
It was wonderful to be back here. I started so many of my first ever ski trips out here. Much easier at this time of year with all the trails groomed, but still steep enough for Mrs P to try out her skins.
A beautiful day. Though Mrs P hasn’t yet put her skins on, so she sees nothing but the ground and sweat.
It was a cold day and there was a stiff breeze. Minus 15 degrees centigrade, with windchill I reckon.
Mrs P in cold weather mode. Though, to be honest, it could be anyone under that lot.
In short, Mrs P has taken to Nordic skiing like a duck to water. She doesn’t mind the face numbing cold, she has no objection to hauling herself up steep slopes and loves, just loves, the lack of people. Today we saw about a dozen people, many from a distance. Peace, quiet, snow and mountains. What’s not to like?
Mrs P’s intrepid tour guide with his somewhat excessive sandwich bag.
It was a lovely day and we passed many quaint cabins bedecked in their winter mantles.
Some cabins are only used in the summer and slowly disappear beneath the snow at this time of year.
Fun fact: Did you know that the Japanese word for icicles is Tsurara (つらら)?
Just show me a sign!
Today above Ustaoset (where) I was once again reminded of Trond’s (and his wife Karin’s) incredible kindness in lending David and I their place here last year while I learned to ski in preparation for our Nord Norge på langs trip.. I can never thank them enough.
Tomorrow, Mrs P and I are doing a longer trip, higher up in the mountains. I am very excited and not least because there is a cafe up there that serves hot chocolate.
Picture postcard perfect
